Mind Games
by Goldendreams257
Summary: An airmen arrives at NEST as one of the new psychologists.  Balancing her normal life with a very abnormal job serves as the foundation for mind games that have no boundaries or rules.  Rated for language and sexuality.
1. Chapter 1

I highly doubt that anyone who is high enough to sue is reading FanFiction but despite that I'll still say that I don't own Transformers, only the right to be pissed off if someone rips off the original characters/plot in this story.

Fun fact, the two dogs in this story are absolutely based on my real life dogs Teddy O'Bear and Zoey. Most of their antics, especially in this chapter, have really happened. I'm going to try my best to update this every Sunday but if I don't just blame Zoey who probably chewed up (another) textbook or Teddy who went on (another) panty raid.

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><p>As it turns out, pitbulls are not the best assistants when it comes to packing. I set all of my weight back in order to pull the sage green t-shirt out from under the snoring dog. Ellie was, in my opinion, the best dog that ever existed but delicate, she was not. Clicking nails on hardwood flooring caused me to glance over my shoulder to see a yorkie trot up to me with bright chocolate eyes. He was tangled up in my black sports bra with my panties dangling from his dainty mouth. Teddy was, in everyone's opinion, the worst dog that ever existed. Ellie stretched in her sleep, allowing me to pull my shirt out from under her belly.<p>

"Get over here," came my exasperated order directed to the yorkie. Teddy happily trotted up to me, his right floppy ear bouncing with each jaunty step, and jumped up onto the bed. "If you weren't so cute you would have been murdered a long time ago." The small dog merely cocked his head to the side, revealing the spiked collar that was covered by his fur. Originally Teddy had been bought as a self-imposed gift by Mom while I was interning at the VA hospital back home. However it turned out that I was the only one who appreciated his terrible terrier ways. It took 36 days from Teddy's arrival for him to suddenly become my "gift" from Mom.

Ellie, on the other hand, was supposed to be a small rescued dog meant to be a companion for Teddy. Those plans were scrapped the moment I saw the picture of the scarred pitbull wagging her tail on the animal shelter's website. A few years later that same blue pitbull was waking up on a queen-sized bed by a yorkie straddling her back and biting at her mutilated ears. I rolled my eyes and non-too-gently untangled Teddy from the bra. Leaning down I scooped up my underwear. I shouldn't have been surprised that the little monster had chewed the crotch out of it but I still growled in aggravation. Both dogs halted their playtime on my bed to stare at me, Ellie out of curiosity and Teddy out of knowing uneasiness.

"If I wanted crotchless panties, I would have bought them that way," I declared, holding the underwear in Teddy's face. The little dog rolled over onto his side and put a caramel paw over his eyes, his form of hiding when he knew he was in trouble. Throwing the chewed up clothing into the wicker waste basket, I turned to evaluate my packed duffel bag that was bouncing from the dogs' playful antics on my bed. Everything was neat and precise and included, just as it ought to be. Closing it up, I stepped over to my closet, taking ginger steps across the cold morning floor.

It didn't take long for me to put my uniform on and braid my brown curls up into a bun. A quick application of the bare basics of make-up and I was ready for my flight. Swinging the bag over my left shoulder, I snapped my fingers to get the dogs' attention. Both of them leapt off the bed in a blue and brown flurry to race each other down the stairs and into the backyard. When they reached the sliding glass door in the kitchen, I threw it upon and the dogs rushed forward…only for their faces to pancake against the screen slider. It was almost every morning and the canines always managed to pull a stunt that would have made Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck comment sarcastically. With the screen door out of their way, Ellie and Teddy surged into the backyard to make sure that their domain was fiercely protected. And by fiercely protected, it is meant that Teddy barks obnoxiously at anything that moves while Ellie wags her tail in greeting. Guard dogs they were not despite what Teddy thought of himself.

The drive to base was a short one. Normally I would have wanted to live on base but there had been an ordinance passed that pitbulls were not allowed to reside in base housing. While it was an annoyance not to have that option, I instead simply found a peaceful farmhouse about thirty minutes away from the base with a big backyard for the dogs and a small stable for my horses. In a sense, the anti-pitbull regulation worked to my advantage because through it I met several other pitbull owners, one of which would be pet sitting for me while I was out Ohio for the week.

Traveling for my work was an inconvenience but one that I wasn't going to complain about considering that I'm not stationed outside of the US or, even worse, Guam whose snake ridden island would not be fun for a snake fearing woman. Lately my superiors were so impressed with my performance that I was asked to go to different bases and hold seminars about PTSD which was the emphasis when I earned my Clinical Psychology PhD in. Or perhaps it was because I was fresh out of internship so I was handed the jobs that my superiors didn't want to do. I preferred to be optimistic and ignore the fact that I knew it was the latter. Either way, it was pretty kick ass that a "newbie" was getting these assignments.

From the moment that I pulled out of my driveway to when the plane's wheels hit the tarmac, I was going over the notes that I knew better than the lines to my favorite obsessed-over movies. This seminar was slightly different than the rest in that I was going to a little known base in Washington DC. Before, I had thought that I knew about all the bases since I scoured over them while I waited for which one I would be assigned to. Perhaps this was a joint base, I'm not sure really. The other difference is that I would be meeting my commanding officer there as well which hadn't happened since after the first two seminars I had given. Colonel Lovejoy was like a s'more…all tough on the outside but all gooey and sweet on the inside once you take a bite. His grey hair was shaved off but his worn face showed his age. Upon making his acquaintance, I quickly determined that "Lovejoy" wasn't exactly the most appropriate name for him so I resorted to the classic title of "Colonel Killgore". At first it was only a mental title that I held for him but one goof up led my entire unit referring to him with name. Someone even taped a thin strip of paper onto his desk placard with the nickname on it. Naturally I had nothing to do with that…so I said.

This was a man who was as gruff as they came and it was as if he was pulled out of the Wild West itself. His demeanor suited that of a cavalry officer more than a licensed psychologist. Of course he was renowned for his success with working with his patients and had been on many tours into combat zones. The man was a walking paradox and I adored him.

"Good morning Captain," Killgore greeted as I saluted and greeted him. "At ease soldier." I turned and fell into step besides the older man as we walked through the busy base. The colonel's step was, as usual, smart and quick. Even though he was a head shorter than me I had to work to keep my long legs at pace with his shorter ones.

As soon as we reached the curb a generic SUV pulled up. Killgore stepped into the front seat while I slipped into the back.

"First Lieutenant Phillip Rogers, this is Captain Kylee Goldberg. She's giving a talk to NEST Operations over the next few days." My head rocked back slightly while my eyes narrowed with the news of who I would be speaking to and how long the duration was. Not only was there a vast rumor that not all of NEST's soldiers were terrestrial, as far as I had known, this was a one day gig and I would be headed back home on a flight the next morning. Nobody had mentioned me staying longer. Something was definitely going on. The barely contained smile on the First Lieutenant just added to my suspicions.

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><p>The base was far from large which makes sense considering it was hidden in a warehouse district although they somehow managed to get an airstrip on it. It was most likely an old air field that was bought and converted over to meet the government's needs. Just from the secrecy I knew that whatever I was about to walk into was big and kept in a lock up that would rival my grandma's secret lasagna recipe. I really wished that Killgore had given me a heads up but then again the military's agenda does not always take my personal opinions into account.<p>

The guns were huge and the guards made no attempt to conceal them. To anyone who made it to the entrance there was no doubt that the soldiers were very armed and very dangerous. The parking lot was small and the lieutenant glided the SUV right into an open parking space. Swinging my backpack over my shoulders, I followed Killgore and Rogers across the parking lot to an old building, our boots thudding against the asphalt. Whenever I tried to glance around to get a better grasp of what I was about to walk into (literally) the soldiers seemed to scowl at my curiosity. _Well then_. They weren't doing a very good job at quelling the rumors of who else was stationed at the confidential NEST base.

Right away Killgore and I were led to a large plain room with around one hundred folding chairs set out in rows. Each one was filled with very large, very….I'd-really-rather-be-anywhere-but-listening-to-a-shrink attitudes. Psychologists had a bit of a stigma in military life, just as we did in the civilian world and being a woman in, quite frankly, a man's world, was not going to help that stigma go away. At all costs during my sessions I avoided the term "Now how does that make you feel?"…well mostly. Sometimes I would unleash that one as a joke in order to break the ice. A tall, athletic man walked up to me and motioned for Killgore and I to step into a corner.

"Colonel Lennox," Killgore greeted. "This is Captain Goldberg, she'll be speaking to your men today." Lennox raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly back in surprise.

"I, uh was under the impression that you were speaking today Lovejoy."

"Yes, I am aware that most would make that assumption with the confidentiality of the situation but Captain Goldberg is a rising star in the field and more than adept. Now, unless you have any objections, I believe that we are slightly behind schedule." Captain Lennox took a step back and raised his hands in a sign of peace.

"Nope, none at all."

I smiled and nodded at Colonel Lennox before I began walking up to the front of the room. Immediately, all of the attention was riveted upon me. There was a folding table in the front that I placed my backpack on. I unzipped it but only pulled out the binder that held my lecture although I knew that I wouldn't be opening it.

"I'm not going to tell you that almost 18% of soldiers who have fought in combat zones acquire PTSD. I don't need to tell you that the more combat one sees, the more likely they will develop PTSD." I reached into the bag and grabbed a handful which I placed discreetly into my pocket. "Even though PTSD is a fairly recent concept, you can go back in history and find plenty of examples. One is from the Spartan battle of Thermopylae Pass. Leonidas, yes Gerard Butler's Leonidas granted he was less…CGI," that earned me a few smiles, "recognized that his soldiers were psychologically spent and were not able to give their all thus sending a fair amount home to prevent the slaughter of his entire army. Out of all of his soldiers, how many remained?" One hand rose tentatively upward. I nodded to him and smiled with my hands in my pockets.

"Three hundred?" I smiled and tossed him a mini chocolate bar from my pocket. He caught it with ease and a quizzical look on his face.

"Next one won't be that easy," I said with a wink. Getting through to the soldiers would be easier with a little bit of humor and, by Lennox's somewhat laid back ways, I knew that I wouldn't be court-martialed for throwing some candy at his men. It really was a trick that I learned in high school since all of my favorite teachers handed out candy and it continued up all the way into grad school.

Over the next 45 mintues I spoke to Lennox's men. They were extremely receptive (the candy was a big help) as I explained the causes and signs of the anxiety disorder. Most of all, I worked to make sure that they knew that the worst thing to do would be to ignore the symptoms in themselves or their comrades. It was hard to fight the stigma that was hammered into how people viewed PTSD; it was felt that instead of being viewed as survivors, they were turned into the victims, which is never something that anyone wants as a label, let alone soldiers. Despite that, I was able to get across that PTSD was extremely serious and came hand in hand with major depression as well as substance abuse that could lead to domestic violence. Bringing their home life into the picture usually got their attention.

As usual, I ended ten minutes before the hour mark after five minutes of the normal questions. I placed all of the candy in a pile on the table and organized the rest of my things to get ready to leave (although apparently I wasn't going to be leaving as soon as I had previously thought). This allowed anyone who wanted to grab a few candies to be able to ask me any more personal questions without seeming obvious. No matter how you looked at it, chocolate was a gift from God. My preferred method of breaking down the barriers for the soldiers was by bringing Ellie, who was a certified therapy dog. She would either lay at the front with me, or more commonly, I would let her wander around the soldiers so that she could soak up the attention. Some bases were not receptive to pitbulls on their facilities; it wasn't the case with this one however there was so much confidentiality in just getting me onto the premises that Killgore and I hadn't felt that it was worth the headache to get Ellie cleared to come along as well. Of course at the time I hadn't been aware I was walking into the middle of NEST.

"That presentation was quite varied from the usual ones I've heard about, Captain." I looked up from the binder in which I was writing the usual observations and comments I made after every seminar. Despite the voice being reserved, there was a friendly undertone to it that made me glance up with a smile.

"People are more likely to open up to those they feel amiable to, not someone just spouting off the facts."

"Hm, very true." The man was in a uniform that I didn't recognize, let alone the fact that it was entirely black. Instead of the normal flags that would be on the shoulder I just saw an insignia of a vicious looking skull with 'N.E.S.T.' above it. He was peering at the candy with his hands in his pockets. "As a doctor, I'm surprised that you are handing out something with such low nutritional value."

"Yes, well what it lacks in nutrition, it makes up with pure deliciousness. However," I flipped to a blank page in my binder and maneuvered myself so that Chocolate Heathen could see what I was writing as I spoke it aloud. "Hand…out…tooth…brushes…with…candy." I made sure to look up at him with a smile so that he would know that I was just messing around.

"Much better," he said with a nod. He looked down and away to hide his amusement and I knew then that I had gained a fan. Snapping my binder shut with the pen still inside, I put it down on the table which I leaned against it while I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I have a feeling that you didn't come up here just to rally against Team Chocolate."

"Very perceptive, Captain." Chocolate Heathen took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms as well. "When I heard that you were coming here to speak with NEST I was hoping that you would speak to my unit as well, but separately. They are not as familiar with PTSD as others but I believe that is crucial that they recognize the symptoms if they arise in their comrades."

"So you're the one behind the change in my itinerary."

"Yes, I'm afraid that I am, although it was not as locked in as your Colonel Lovejoy had made it to appear. In hindsight, he was justly confident that I would come to the conclusion that you would be suitable to be granted restricted access and speak to my unit."

"In other words, you're the one responsible for the go ahead for me to speak to your men."

"My men? No, my apologies, I should have clarified that from the beginning. My CO entrusted me with this decision. He will not be returning from an assignment until tomorrow afternoon and he is rather eager to learn about what this disorder is."

"About PTSD? I've never met or heard of someone who _isn't_ aware of the disorder and its consequences." My head subconsciously cocked to the side so that my eyes peered at Chocolate Heathen with a skeptical look. Something was unusual here. The man seemed to pick up on my suspicions yet did nothing to alleviate them.

"Very true although we are a relatively new unit. Here at least." Warning bells were going off in my head.

"How new, precisely?" Chocolate Heathen smiled in what I assumed to be appreciation for realizing that I was catching on.

"Although our unit has been in existence for many years, we are among the founding members of NEST."

"Non-Biological Extraterrestrial Specialist Team."

"Precisely." Oh my fucking God. I wanted to lean against the table so that I could better absorb this bit of news since it was way too big to take in while handling the task of standing up as well. Then I began thinking about it. No way were they going to let a fresh PhD speak to this unit, if this unit was made up of who I thought it was. NO. FUCKING. WAY. The only option would be to straight up ask yet how stupid would I be if I was wrong? What would be even worse than my personal embarrassment would me having Killgore look bad because of my naivety.

"I was under the impression that I just spoke to everyone from NEST." I was desperate and I knew Chocolate Heathen could hear it my voice. It was then that it occurred to me…Chocolate Heathen had never given me his _name_.

"All of the biological soldiers, yes." The room had cleared out long ago except for Lennox and Killgore in the corner near the door talking. I heard some rustling at my feet but my mind was reeling so badly that it never registered to look at what it was.

Chocolate Heathen smiled at me. "I can see the question you want to ask in your eyes, Captain. I would rather you say it so I can verify it now before your blood pressure rises to a more dangerous level." Well, couldn't get more of an invitation than that.

"You…you wish _me_ to speak to the…the _Autobots_, sir?" No matter how hard I tried to control them, my eyes were wide with disbelief. Oh please don't let me get nailed for being unprofessional.

"Wow, took ya long enough toots." I whirled around to face the table I had previously had my back to and then stumbled backwards into the first row of chairs. Riffling through the pile of chocolate were two robots both of whom looked like science fair projects. While one was carefully selecting the chocolate (_what did robots want with chocolate?_) the spindly one with red eyes stared up at me with his hands on his hips. "You ain't too smart, are ya?"

Something that sounded like a growl came from Chocolate Heathen. "Both of you leave. Now." When the stouter one stood up with his chocolate load nestled in his arms, Chocolate Heathen barked again. "What are you _doing_ with those?"

In what sounded like an old smoker's voice, the stout robot responded animatedly. "Sell these things to the humans. Should get some nice cash off of this little gold mine."

"Put. Them. Back." Chocolate Heathen ordered while pointing to the pile the candies had originated from. As soon as the stout one bent over to do as he was told, his white fiber optic 'hair' waving in every kind of direction, I heard a muttered "Imbeciles" from Chocolate Heathen.

Both robots froze, the one still in a stooped position, their eyes locking. The red-eyed one lashed his hand out to his companion's load and before I knew it he was repeatedly hurling the mini-bars at Chocolate Heathen. Glancing at their target, I saw that all of the chocolates were landing behind him on the ground from what I assumed was bad aim. It took me less than a second to realize though that they weren't going _around_ him. They were going _through_ him.


	2. Chapter 2

"You do realize that you're being insubordinate by giving me this silent treatment." I glared at Killgore over the hotel room's table. I wanted to tell him that I'm off duty so he could shove that theory up his ass. But that would have meant breaking my sworn oath to never talk to the colonel again as long as I'm off duty. Instead I tore another piece of pizza from the box we had ordered. Confidential folders were spread around the wooden surface so I ate with my hands over the napkin in my lap. So far I had managed to avoid talking to Killgore the moment I stepped into my hotel room and out of my uniform, to lunch time the next day right before we head back to base. 25.6 hours of silence. It was a record I was proud of.

"Fine, I realize that I should have given you more information about the Autobots and what they wanted from you but Ratchet wanted to speak to you first. Even though _I _knew that they would ask you to speak to them, I couldn't go over anyone's heads and just tell you." Even though I now understood the concept of holograms and that Ratchet was in fact the Autobot CMO, I had no reason to change his name from Chocolate Heathen. "So in that regard I'll go ahead and tell you that after such a record amount of soldiers sought you out to voice their concerns about their own or possibly someone else's PTSD symptoms, Lennox is looking into having you and I assigned to NEST operations in two weeks."

That was it.

"Are you shitting me?" I rose up so fast that the chair fell backward and frankly I didn't give a damn. "I _just _got assigned to Ohio and not even three months later, after I _finally_ found off-base housing that meets my needs mind you, they're uprooting me _here_ to work with _NEST_? I barely received my doctorate and they're throwing me into the most confidential unit _in the world!_"

Killgore didn't move throughout my entire outburst. His icy blue eyes matched my sparking green ones in ferocity.

"What are you so upset about Kylee? That you have to move at a moment's notice, which is something you knew from the moment you stepped into the recruiter's office, or that you think I am not doing my job correctly by recommending you for this position. Please. Enlighten me," he said as he swept his palms outwards with the last two words. Our gazes matched each other in a deadly match but we both knew the outcome. With a sigh I dejectedly went to the bed and sat down, my forehead pressed against my folded arms resting on my knees.

There were a few minutes of silence before I heard Killgore move so that he was sitting next to me, the mattress dipping beside me from his weight as his hand rested on the back of my head. He gently stroked my curls and I scooted over so that I was leaning against his shoulder. Apparently he and his late wife had been very potent with the XY chromosome considering they had four sons and it appeared as if that family tradition would be continuing with the consistent gender of the grandsons. Killgore had taken me in as his adopted daughter and as a daddy's girl separated from her own father, I appreciated it.

"I understand that this is a lot to deal with, Kylee. But if I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't be supporting it. You can give them a lot child, just as they can do the same for you. Most of your colleagues are only interested in serving to make up for their scholarships while you have made it clear you want a career out of this."

"I'm not even _thirty_," I groaned without moving away from his shoulder.

"And yet a great deal more adept than quite a few of my colleagues. You'll do fine. Better than fine." I gave up with a sigh. If Killgore told me to hack my foot off because he thought it was in my best interest, I would have done it myself.

"If it makes you feel better they thought you were too young which is why I ended up being thrown into it. Apparently, their current psychological team is far from subpar. One of those, suck it up kind." I pulled away from Killgore with a look of disgust from that bit of news.

"Seriously? That explains the eleven soldiers who talked to me."

"Eleven? I was only aware of eight." I shrugged and moved a curl out from in front of my eyes.

"One caught me outside the bathroom and the others used my card to call me up last night." Once I was straightened out, Killgore clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"You are a magnet for them." I cocked my head to the side with a cheeky smile.

"What other profession can you be happy about being a magnet for psychological disorders?"

I sat back and reread the files on the Autobots Killgore had given me while I waited for him to get ready for us to leave. They all seemed like a rather eclectic group and the colonel's handwritten post-it notes on each of the files added to that sense. Without them I would not have known that Ratchet was a loving sadist, Wheeljack's numerous explosions led to the conclusion of a possible pyromaniac, Sideswipe was codenamed Narcissus, the Twins had a vastly inappropriate misunderstanding of the hip-hop culture, Mirage was a little too enthused with his Italian alternate mode and at odds with Bumblebee over his American made disguise, the silent treatments and such-like tantrums that Optimus was prone to, and Ironhide was extremely trigger happy.

Also included with the files were pictures of the Autobots as well as their alternate modes. Even though I could easily see the car parts spread across their forms, it still blew my mind that they could form a seamless version of vehicles. Although my meeting with Wheelie and Brains was brief yesterday, it helped me a great deal to get a fair perspective on what the Autobots really looked like; a picture on a two-dimensional paper could only do so much. Then there was the issue of height. Excluding Wheelie and Brains who were around two feet height and the Twins who were around nine, the average height of the rest of the unit was around twenty feet high. Then there was "Big Buddha" who was thirty foot. Even with all of this preparation I really wasn't sure if I could hold myself together.

It wasn't long before I found myself with Killgore being driven back to the base with Lieutenant Rogers. This time, I looked around with different eyes. It made sense now that the base was so separate and secretive. The location of the base was a well kept secret since no one wanted a crowd gathering outside in hopes of seeing an Autobot. Not to mention the idiot protestors. The sign outside mentioned Health Services and the brick building itself looked rather rundown. Rogers parked the car in a small lot behind the building before escorting us through and into a different building, a hangar, which I had not been in the day before.

Time slowed down.

The building was absolutely huge. Far larger than what it appeared to be on the outside. The first thing I saw was a large black robot standing with its…his…legs spread apart and his arms crossed over his chest. Two massive cannons were attached to his forearms which I could see even though he had his back to us. His gravelly voice directed the motions of three humans as they practiced an assault on a thin silver robot who had feet as wheels. Their actions were purposefully slowed down in order for them to have a refined sense of what they would be doing when using the tactics in the field.

Sensing my wonderment, the Rogers stopped and allowed me to watch the exercise, taking the whole situation in. While watching, the silver robot….Sideswipe, I remembered from my files… looked up from the crouch he was in and our gazes met. He cocked his head softly to the side and quirked a soft smile. Then he seized up and fell to the ground convulsing.

"You know better than to get distracted while training," the black mech in front of us grumbled. The soldiers who had used some sort of stun gun snickered but didn't leave until they saw Sideswipe standing up right, albeit swaying just a bit. The black mech made a comment questioning if the silver robot was getting soft in his old age. He received a rather feral snarl in response.

"I can't wait until you rust away old timer." The black mech laughed as he walked up to Sideswipe and clapped his hand on his shoulder (which looked suspiciously like the bumper of a car). The two exchanged a few words in what I assumed to be their own language before Sideswipe nodded over in my direction. The black mech who I could know recognize as Ironhide twisted his torso to look at what Sideswipe was referring to. A few more words were exchanged without either of their bright blue gazes leaving me. It took everything inside of me not to blush and find something more interesting to look at in the ground however I knew that if I were to work effectively with these men then I would have to be as confident as humanly possible.

Holding their gaze as they exchanged short responses I waited until they were done and Ironhide had turned completely towards me before stepping forward and holding out my hand. The moment I did so I felt like an idiot since our vast size differences prevented us from greeting one another in any way that I was familiar with. My hand shot back to my side and without letting my voice waver I introduced myself.

"My name is Captain Kylee Goldberg, the new psychologist." The ground shook as Ironhide took a few steps forward.

"It is a pleasure to meet you ma'am." It was difficult placing the accent that he spoke with but what I was most captivated with were how bright his eyes were. Perhaps it was because they were set back in his black exterior but there was something that I immediately liked about the Autobot. I was sure that in another alternate universe in which the humans were Autobots, the colonel would look just like the mech standing in front of me. With a curt nod, Ironhide excused himself to take care of his other responsibilities.

Next Sideswipe wheeled forward until he was directly in front of us so that he could kneel down. He extended his hand and I hesitantly took one of his jointed fingers. Sideswipe's eyes took on a special gleam. I was close enough to touch his face and I noticed his lenses twisting and manipulating as his gaze stayed on me.

"It really is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Goldberg," the Autobot told me, the twinkle in his optics strengthening. I went to take my hand back but he simply moved with me, my palm resting on his cool armor.

"Thank you and it would be Ms. Goldberg if I was a civilian but since I'm not, you can call me Captain Goldberg or Kylee."

"From the name 'Kyle' meaning 'handsome'…a very appropriate name." My eyebrows shot up and jaw dropped with no hope of holding on to my professional composure. I felt the colonel's hands take me protectively by the shoulder and lead me away from Sideswipe's Cheshire grin.

"Did I…did he…why was?...Was he just flirting with me?" I whispered fiercely. The colonel merely grunted in disdain. I swear if he had hackles they would have been raised.

As we walked through the compound around scaffolding and stepping aside out of the way of harried personnel, I tried to grasp what had just happened. Certainly I had been hit on before but never in my workplace and certainly never by an alien being of a completely different species and physical make-up… granted the only other aliens I had meet were the Chocolate Hackers but the point still stood. It wasn't even the fact that Sideswipe had hit on me that had me so discombobulated but the way in which he did it; the mech had swag, damn it. The lines were classic and I was sure that if he had used them in a bar he would be coming home with plenty of results. The colonel seemed to be sensing where my mind still resided but it was Rogers who spoke up.

"Perhaps I should have warned you but I didn't think it would arise in this way. The Autobots and humans share very similar tendencies. Don't be expecting them to speak you in some monotone 'As you wish' tone."

"This isn't some old-school Hollywood film or even that robot film with Phil Smith-" Killgore added.

"Will Smith," I quickly corrected. The colonel waved his hand in dismissal as we sidestepped a distracted aid who had his nose buried in some files and Rogers continued.

"What I'm saying is that there are very strong personalities here. And while we're on the topic, if you need to wear dress, don't wear skirts if you know that Wheelie and Brains will be on base. They'll be camped out under you like the Donner Party."

"Yeah but how do I respond in those instances. I'm damn good at turning men down but…" I trailed off in confusion. I had no idea what I had just been signed up for.

"There isn't exactly protocol for this kind of situation," the colonel told me, stopping as a forklift with several oil drums slowly passed us by before Rogers once again spoke up since he had more experience with the Autobots than Killgore.

"Just…treat those kinds of advances as you would from your little brother's annoying, horny friend who always comes by. And remember that the Autobots are harmless". Without better timing, a huge explosion rocked the base. I looked to my left and saw a short blue Autobot who frankly looked like Einstein waving away a cloud of smoke away from his charred body. I quirked my eyebrows and inclined my head in his direction.

"…to us." Rogers corrected quickly.

Lennox appeared from behind Killgore and asked if we had gotten enough sleep the night before. Apparently the younger Colonel had not had gotten any sleep considering the bags under his eyes. After looking at the records, I wasn't surprised by his lack of rest considering the personalities he had to deal with not only among his own men but also working with the Autobots. Just last week there had been a cover up when Sideswipe chased the twins down through D.C. after an ill-timed quip. While none of them changed out of their alt modes, they did manage to rack up several thousand dollars in traffic fines and set off countless energon readers around the White House which led to the president being evacuated.

As we were led to the other end of the hangar, I glanced over my shoulder to see both Ironhide and Sideswipe watching us. When I realized I was caught looking, I snatched my head forward so that I could at least pretend that I was listening to the colonels speak to each other and forget that Rogers and I were with them. Something about the Autobots unnerved me in a way that I wasn't sure if it was good or bad. I had never seen something so _human_ in something that clearly wasn't. Sure, there were characteristics in my dogs and horses such as happiness, sadness, fear, curiosity. Their thoughts were reflected in their eyes but it never went past "You're home!" or "Bacon? Bacon!" Looking into the eyes of the Autobots, there was something far, _far _more in their depths. Never before had I met anything so mind boggling.

Lennox led us up stairs so that we were able to be eye level with the Autobots. It wasn't empty, far from it, with the computers and techies dotted about. I had to watch where I stepped to make sure that I wouldn't trip over any wires. I tried not to play with the straps on my backpack, I tried not to show the nerves I was feeling. I was about to speak to the Autobots. All of them. _The Autobots_. It didn't matter that I knew their idiosyncrasies or that I had just spoken to a far larger group of soldiers just the day before. Hell, I was a ham and I loved being the center of attention and sounding like a smart ass. This was something different though, just like being able to look these beings in the eyes and seeing sentience unlike any other.

"Will all Autobots please report to the assembly area of Hangar B." I looked over at Killgore, desperately seeking the anchor that he would provide. If only he would just take over this seminar. No. This was something that I needed to do. Killgore nodded his head and I retreated to the back railing to lean against while I centered myself. I could feel and hear the Autobots as they gathered below. Perhaps about five minutes later I felt Killgore's hand resting on my shoulder.

Stepping forward, I rested my hands on the railing and leaned into them while hanging my head. Slowly I raised it up, my eyes locking with none other than Optimus Prime.

"My name is Captain Kylee Goldberg. Normally I do not share this story because it is not mine to share. While I was working at a VA back home in Los Angeles, I came across a file under the name of Jimmy. He had fought in the Vietnam War…or conflict depending on who you spoke to. He was drafted a month after his eighteenth birthday. Since his dad swung golf clubs with some politicians, he was given the opportunity to get out of it. He didn't though. Instead he told his parents that he wanted to serve and defend his country from the threat of Communism.

"Boot camp was hell but he made it through with flying colors so that by the time he was deployed, he was the star of his platoon. At first it was cut and dry stuff, nothing too complicated. Go into a village looking for Vietcong. Their orders were to take care of any members of the NLF and their supporters and they would have if they had any direct contact with them. That isn't saying that they didn't come across indirect contact with the Vietcong. There were several instances in which the soldiers were going through the jungle terrain and watched their best friends being blown up by a land mine without any warning. The Vietcong would lure some of the men away and ambush them. Their comrades would find their friends with their genitalia cut off and stuffed into their mouths. Some American soldiers would retaliate by slicing the Vietcong's torso and filling it with rice, leaving a playing card as a marker. It was a vicious cycle that was only fueled by hatred and violence.

"It was around April that Jimmy and his platoon found themselves in a village. Everyone was tense after the My Lai Massacre only a month before. There wasn't anything that stood out to Jimmy or the other soldiers. It was when their Second Lieutanant was speaking with a peasant that Jimmy's best friend, Michael, spotted two young boys walking toward them down the lane. Both of them ordered the children to stop but they kept walking towards them. As one of the other soldiers was about to take aim and fire, Michael pushed the gun down and ran out to the boys. 'Look!' he told them. 'Their harmless". He was about to say something else but the grenade the little boy was holding went off before he could say anything. Both were killed. The other little boy had been further back. As soon as the grenade went off, he began running towards Jimmy and the other soldier.

"Jimmy kept yelling at him to stop, to not come any closer but the boy either didn't understand or just didn't listen. Closing his eyes, Jimmy opened fire. When he opened them, the little boy was dead. When the soldiers later searched the body of the boy, they didn't find any weapons on him."

I paused to take a deep breath. This wasn't an easy story to tell and one that I honestly tried to avoid. It was getting through to them though, I could tell as I looked every one of them in the eye as I spoke. If the Autobots showed their emotions as we did, I could see the remorse, pain, and understanding that they wore. It was clear that they could identify with Jimmy and that broke my heart just as much as when I listened to similar stories from the soldiers I met with.

"When Jimmy went home, he never spoke of what happened in Vietnam to anyone. His wife didn't even know he served until she found his medals and Honorable Discharge paperwork in the attic after he died. Although no one knew why Jimmy was the way he was, it was clear that he was troubled. He would drink a case of beer at night as if he was drinking water. The only way he could go to sleep without having night terrors was by drinking himself into unconsciousness. Even then, he could never sleep without his pistol beneath his pillow. His wife reported that he would sometimes scream himself awake, praying that God would forgive him for what he did and to not send him to Hell, which he was convinced would happen. Jimmy was distant from his family. There was one time that a balloon popped at his five year old daughter's birthday party and he flew into a terror-filled rage that it took three men to hold him down and drag him away from the children. Any loud noise like that was liable to set him off.

"Even though he had three beautiful and successful children, Jimmy was never able to plan ahead into the future saying that he was liable to just end up dead the next morning. He was constantly irritable and had a strained relationship with his children who he stated reminded him of the Vietnamese boy he killed. Jimmy died in 1985 from a self-imposed bullet to the head. In his suicide note he said that he needed to meet the same fate that the child he killed in Vietnam had met.

"Jimmy met every symptom of PTSD which was more than needed to diagnose him with that disorder. NEST is involved with highly combative assignments and the greater risk of combat, the greater risk that PTSD will develop. If you recognize even _one_ of those symptoms in yourself or others, it could literally come down to you saving that person's life by reporting it to a proper authority. Ignoring it _will not make it go away_ and will only make it worse. This diagnosis does not translate to a weakness but rather a natural effect of war and violence, something that despite our great fondness, humans are not meant for. PTSD can lead to violence towards oneself and others, especially those who are closest such as family. It also leads to drug and alcohol addiction as well as domestic violence.

"If you recognize any of those symptoms, please speak to a CO as soon as possible. That is the end of what I have to say, thank you for listening." I took a step back to let Killgore move forward. We had a system in that whenever I told this story he would answer questions so that I could recover myself. My family always worried about me being a psychologist because the empathy I felt for others bordered on taking their pain onto myself.

"Captain Goldberg," I heard the gravelly voice of Ironhide state. I looked down into his bright blue eyes. "Is the story you just told us a common development of this disorder?"

"PTSD manifests itself in different ways and degrees for each individual, varying upon their exposure. Usually there is a common theme to each hardship that a war represents. Sadly a similarity between Vietnam and the conflicts existing today is the difficulty in distinguishing who or what is the enemy. It creates doubt and paranoia for individuals that are not simply turned off once they step out of the combat zone."

"Thank you Captain, we greatly appreciate you taking the time to speak to us." Optimus Prime's voice shook through me, resonating down into my core. But it was Ironhide who I was looking at. Our gazes were locked and in that moment we knew exactly what resided down in one another's beings; that we would sacrifice what was most precious to us for the wellbeing of the comrades we called family...whether it was our lives or sanity.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey so I'm really, crazy sorry about the lack of updates. Between my computer getting a real nasty virus and my grandpa passing away, things have been tough. ANYWAY, I now have a shnazzy new ultrabook that will not randomly start downloading crap to iTunes whenever I connect to the Internet. Instead of updating every Sunday I'll be doing it every other Sunday. Thank you sooooo much for the views and reads and alerts. It means a lot to me.

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><p>I laid my cheek against Lady's golden rump as I listened to the methodical munch of the grass. Golightly was trotting around the field, his youthful energy propelling him into bucks and spurts of gallops. They seemed to enjoy their new home in Maryland and I was glad. It had been a stressful and wild ride finding horse property that was close enough to the base. Killgore was a bit of a butt about it, not understanding why I couldn't just pay board to rent out stalls and care at a boarding stable. He didn't understand the pleasure and peace I hoarded to myself by caring for my horses and being able to see them from my bedroom window. Besides, these horses were extremely special to me.<p>

Lady was a small horse, almost a pony that I was with since my childhood. She was my first horse and a while my only horse. She saw me through school, boys, and friends. Despite her older age, she was still full of attitude and would push me right back into line if I rubbed her the wrong way. She was a lined-back dun, a horse who had a coat that looked as if it was spun out of gold…when it wasn't covered in mud from a good roll. The broad white stripe down her face set only enhanced the doe-like eyes that merrily watched the comings and goings of the day.

Golightly was anything but small. He was a big horse with big movement who loved with a big heart. He stood almost higher than my nearly six foot stature. I bought him as a two year old and trained him into the show champion he was. Even so, he was still a young horse and I never forgot that. Born black, his coat was slowly turning white and he was caught in a beautiful dappled stage with a thick black mane and tail. He honestly was one of the most beautiful horses I had come across, bias aside. When Lady passed, it wouldn't make it any easier but I would at least have the gelding.

A tip of a blue tail arched above the grass outside the pasture, resembling a shark fin cutting through the waves. I pushed myself into a sitting position so it would be easier to make an emergency dismount if the shenanigans moved over near us. Very gradually the tail came to a stop and slowly dropped down beneath the blades of grass. Golightly was still tearing away at the grass with one ear trained on where the tail disappeared. As the grass began dividing as if on its volition, the dappled gelding stopped chewing and locked both ears on the approaching ambush. He snorted and blew up a flurry of stray grass strands.

It all happened so fast. One moment Golightly was standing in the ankle deep grass and the next, Ellie burst between the bottom fence rails and lunged into the pasture. She surged toward Golightly who tossed his head, performed an exquisite rollback to take off in a flurry of grey bucks and crowhops. I felt Lady shift to look at the young hooligans making proper fools out of themselves. Once she was bored of the pasture entertainments, she returned back to grazing. Ellie was gaining ground on Golightly who was more consumed with his acrobatics rather than putting distance between him and his pursuer. The pitbull put on an extra burst of speed and I wasn't sure if her paws were even touching the ground. As the dog surged past the horse, Golightly tossed his head in mock frustration and aimed a half-hearted kick at the passing dog. Ellie zipped around the pasture with no clear pattern, Golightly galloping behind her but taking care that his hooves never crushed the comparatively small dog. Even though the game of tag was played nearly every time the dogs were out while the horses were grazing in the pasture, watching them simply never got old. I put countless videos of their antics on my Facebook and Youtube accounts.

A small yip came from below. Teddy stood up to place his front paws on Lady's back leg and stretched his tiny body. He was big for a Yorkie and was extremely athletic but I still had to lean down to catch him when he jumped up. I placed the little dog on Lady's rump what I had just been using as a pillow but he came over to settle into my lap. I'm not sure how it was comfortable but he seemed content enough to stay curled up there. I ran my fingers through his curly fur and thought to myself that I needed to find a groomer to give him a proper cut…and one that did not include ribbons or bows. Even if Teddy was a girl, and many people thought he was until they saw what was beneath, I would never place any kind of clothing on my dog.

Ellie finally trotted over, her tongue lolling from her mouth. She collapsed at Lady's hooves and earned a prompt nip in the rear for the rudeness. The pitbull gave a yelp and tucked her rear as she scampered to a safer distance. This time it was Golightly who disturbed her as he trotted up and began nudging her gruffly. Ellie rolled on her back to show her broad white chest and took a white paw to bop Golightly on the nose. The gelding snapped his head away, bobbed it a few times, then resumed his pestering. Ellie promptly turned into a wriggling mass of blue and white who resembled more of a strand of spaghetti than a dog.

"Life is good," I sighed as I tickled Teddy beneath his chin. Tucking the little dog to my chest, I scooted forward until I slid right down Lady's tail. I stooped to let Teddy jump the rest of the way down and he promptly galloped over to Ellie and did a Superman leap onto her. Golightly jumped quickly to the side before shoving his nose right back into the literal dog pile.

Leaving the clowns behind me, I started walking toward the pasture fence. It was dinner time for the horses. As I was walking I felt a pressure against my back. I slipped my hand behind me and wriggled my fingers. Lady's thick whispery upper lip waggled its way into my palm. I'm not sure why Lady enjoyed walking this way because my back blocked where her vision of where she was walking. She was literally following me blindly and it made my heart swell that she trusted me to that extent. Suddenly I saw Teddy trotting as quickly as his legs could carry him with his ears cocked back in nervousness. About six inches from his stubby tail was Golightly's black nose hovering the ground. He was jogging promptly behind the Yorkie while Ellie had a mouthful of Golightly's black tail. The three of them formed a dysfunctional conga line and I was tempted to join with Lady to make it a full-fledged party.

We were half way to the gate when Lady moved from behind me to my side so that I was walking at her shoulder. I rested my right hand on the top of her neck and gave it a squeeze. Grabbing the halters from the ground, I buckled them on the horses. Ellie gave a high pitched yip while performing an excited dance. I handed the soft hunter green cotton rope to pitbull who gently took it in her giant jaws. As soon as I opened the gate, she began trotting forward with Golightly striding behind her. Teddy loped around with his one ear flopping about while Lady walked along my side. I lazily tossed the leadrope across the mare's shoulders.

It was a short walk down a dirt road to the barn which was within eyesight of the barn. It was large and beautiful with a plentiful amount of stalls set in four rows and two barn aisles. A tackroom in addition to a few washracks and crossties for the horses were at the far end of the barn. Separating the stalls and the tackroom in the middle of the barn were stairs that led up to the second story; on the near side was the hayloft above the stalls while the office was above the tackroom, washracks, crossties, and breezeway that linked the left and right sides of the barns. The breezeway not only linked the two sides of the barn but also had a large opening to the indoor arena.

It was my paradise and heaven all rolled up into a perfection sundae.

I led Lady to her stall, taking the halter off while she walked in. Ellie started following me which meant that Golightly was following as well. He was trying to keep up with her but she kept changing directions and it was difficult for his large body to maneuver along with her. With a pat I took the leadrope from her mouth and put Golightly in the stall besides Lady. Slowly I tread over to the dark stall on the other side of Golightly.

"Hey handsome boy," I whisper. A dark shadow shifted in the very back but other than that there were no other hints to the rescued horse within. It was going to be a long road; I knew that when I took him in but it just as he was starting to make grounds in Ohio, I had to move him here. I was hoping that he would come out of his depression after a few days of settling in. Horses are herd animals and he needed to be with his own kind but Golightly would pester him and Lady could be an outright bitch when someone was in the way of her food or whatever she wanted…or if she just had more of an attitude that day. Perhaps another rescue horse will help this rescue out. If only I had the money for it.

Even though I had spent the last few days at NEST getting my office together, the novelty of the Autobots never wore off. Hell, I could feel my heart start beating faster as they were just lumbering by as calmly as any of the other soldiers. Just like the other soldiers though, I was always greeted with a "Hey Doc". Apparently the acquisition of a doctorate made me a medical doctor to them. I was somewhat getting used to the Autobots speaking to me with the exception of one. It seemed as if every time Sideswipe spoke to me, I was obligated to bitch slap him. There were other women on the base but somehow I was his favorite to try horrific pick-up lines on. Guy friends have always had a great time teasing me and I knew it was because I always reacted but it really sucked that this particular Autobot seemed to pick up on that character flaw so easily. As a psychologist I was great when it came to keeping my mouth shut when dealing with patient confidentiality and dealing with patients in general, but that just did not translate so easily into my personal life.

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><p>"Pardon me miss, I seem to have lost my phone number, could I borrow yours?" I stopped walking up the metal stairs toward my office, my arms burning with the heavy box I was hauling up. Slowly but surely I turned my narrowed gaze to rest upon Sideswipe's level face.<p>

"Why don't you pull it out of your ass, just like you do with the rest of those lines?" Completely undeterred, Sideswipe gave a cheeky grin.

"Guess I'll just have to hack into it."

"Guess I'll just have to report you," I shrugged in return.

Resuming my climb, I braced myself for the mini earthquake as Ironhide stomped over and forcefully grabbed Sideswipe by a door protruding from his back. The smaller robot nearly fell from his wheeled feet as Ironhide yanked him to wherever he wanted him to be.

"Was that really necessary old man?" I heard Sideswipe grumble as he twisted and turned to regain his balance while still in Ironhide's clutches.

"Absolutely."

I smiled, reaching the walkway. Several doors lined the balcony, one of which was ripped open and fired out two small figures. From inside I heard the Cajon accent of Bryan cursing up a storm with equal reciprocation from the expelled Wheelie and Brains.

"She ain't here, ya foutre peeshwank. Go back ta Toys'er'Us where ya'll belong!" Bryan was just about to close the door when he saw me and his whole demeanor changed. "I apologize ma'am. I didn' see ya there. I was just axen these domions to git." I let Bryan take the box from me as I frowned, trying to figure out everything he had just said. Never before had I met a Cajun and this Lieutenant had a rather thick accent. He tried to tone it down a bit so people could understand him more readily but I had a feeling that he was assigned to Killgore and me because he didn't tone it down enough. I knew that Killgore would get frustrated with the slight language barrier but I always wanted to learn some French…whether or not it was the kind you learned in the school room.

Taking Bryan's distraction to their advantage, the two small Autobots trotted back into the office suite. Wheelie zipped around and through my strides while Brains followed at a nonchalant pace behind me. Bryan emerged from my office and came to sit at his desk, staring daggers at the unwanted intruders.

"What was it that you called them?" I asked him as he sat at his desk.

"What ya mean?"

"Yeah," Brains huffed. "He calls us a lot of things."

"Pretty frickin' rude if you ask me. You should court martial him or somethin," Wheelie chimed in.

"I was jist sayin they was runts and peepin' Toms, Doc."

"Go take your lunch DuPont," I laughed. Bryan looked slightly relieved that he was able to go eat but at the same time was clearly wary to leave me alone with the runts. I waved him off as I disappeared into my office, leaving the door open behind me.

I still wasn't quite sure why Wheelie and Brains took a liking to me as quickly and as much as they did but I was far from annoyed with them, unlike Bryan. They mainly left Killgore alone as he did them probably because there really was no interest from either party. Bryan, on the other hand, was a favorite target for the Autobots and there were times that I took pity on the poor man since I was able to relate what with all of Sideswipe's bullshit. Sometimes a well-timed lunch break was the best thing to defuse the situation.

"What the fuck is this?" Wheelie's hand emerged from within the box, holding a framed photograph of me riding Golightly at a horse show. Reaching in, I plucked him up and deposited him next to Brains who was most likely the one who gave the intruder a boost into the box in the first place.

"That's my horse, Golightly." I carefully placed the frame on my corner desk and began grabbing the other ones from the box.

"Just looks like a giant slobberpuss to me," Brains grouched. I gave him a stern look and told him not to insult the horse.

While I made my office more comfortable for me and whoever came within it, the Autobots milled about exploring and griping about whatever crossed their minds. Brains decided that he had the best interior decorating skills of the three of us and was organizing my desk however he pleased. Eventually I realized that Wheelie had gone silent. Looking around, I found him sitting on the sage green couch beneath the two-way mirror looking out over the hangar. I was still learning about the Autobots' expressions but from what I did know, they were similar to humans'…and Wheelie looked rather dejected. Brains and I exchanged a look and he nodded his head towards his friend. Taking the hint, I gave the award plaque to Brains to continue organizing the desk's hutch.

Wheelie had gotten a hold of a picture my dad took of me riding Golightly bareback with Lady cantering besides us. It was one of my favorites because both horses were at liberty and I loved how my dark curls were blowing back just as the horses' manes were at the same time. Even if I had commissioned an artist or a photographer, I don't think they could have caught the spontaneous beauty that Dad was able to capture.

"Is it like riding a motorcycle?" Wheelie asked as I sat beside him. His digit hovered down the length of Lady's neck.

"Um, I guess. But there's more of a connection. They're more of a partner than a tool."

"She used to ride motorcycles. You kinda look like her too." Before I could ask him who 'she' was, I heard a string of Cybertronian curses from my desk across the room.

"She don't want us anymore, get your head outta your ass. Pussy." Before I knew it, I heard weapons form and on-line.

"Don't talk 'bout her like that! He made her leave!"

"Whoa!" I cried, standing up in between the warring bots. "Both of you stand down! You," I pointed at Wheelie, "stay there and don't you dare fire any of those. And you, go outside and close the door behind you." Brains threw down a bunch of pens which scattered quickly across the desk surface and onto the floor. Grumbling, he jumped to the chair and then the floor. When I finally heard the door slam I turned my attention to Wheelie who still had his weapons out.

"Disable those and then tell me what just happened." With a huff the weapons withdrew and he practically threw himself down into a sitting position on the middle cushion. I went to take a seat at the other end of the couch, opting out of the matching wicker chair which I would normally sit in during sessions.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Wheelie muttered like some petulant child.

"Too bad, I outrank you." Red optics glared at me, the owner crossing his arms over his chest. Despite his protests, I knew he would have plenty to say.

"Warrior Goddess. We lived with her when she and Witwicky were together. He won't say it, but she left because the whole saving-the-world-twice-thing got to his head. Said she was tired of some spoiled rich boy having entitlement issues. So he told her that the only reason she was with him was to get famous off his hard work. So she walked out and never came back. I heard she's back home with her dad in Pasadena."

"How do you know all of this? Where you there?" I asked gently. Wheelie seemed to hunch inwards to make himself smaller.

"Yeah but I wasn't supposed to be. We were supposed to stay with Bee in the garage so they could talk in private. I snuck out." The whole situation reminded me of a child stuck in between divorcing parents.

"Have you talked to her since?"

"No. I don't know why but Sam was able to convince the higher ups to take her clearance away. I tried e-mailing her but I got my ass handed to me when the brass found out. Would have gotten away with it too if it wasn't for Blondie reading my e-mail."

"Who's Blondie?"

"Sam's new chick, Carly. Only got with her cuz she's rich and British and a bitch. Guy's an idiot for big ass lips." I was silent, not using any questions to get the information out. There was more that Wheelie wanted to say but he was holding back. Hopefully he would feel the need to fill the silence. I was right.

"Mikaela tried to come back to see us. She told the guards here that she felt real bad about leaving me and Brains and Bee without saying good-bye. Bee didn't want to see her because he believed the bullshit that Sam fed him about her randomly dumping him for no reason and since Bee didn't want to see her, I didn't get to. When Sam found out that she was here…he…I don't know. If it wasn't for Blondie, I think they would have gotten back together like they should have."

"You don't like Carly, do you?"

"Hell no, she's fake and makes us sleep outside with the dog. Who does that? But Sam's so whipped that he can't say no to her bout anything." Before he could say anything else, the tiny robot when still as if listening to something only he could hear.

"Gotta go, Doc. Prime is sending a team out on a mission." I nodded my head and followed Wheelie as he made his way to the door. Without another word, I opened it and let him out.

Right as he was standing in the doorway of the small reception area, Wheelie turned around to face me.

"Thanks for listenin, Doc."

"No problem Wheelie. I'm always here for you talk to." In a fleeting moment of maturity, Wheelie nodded his head and gave a small salute before disappearing around the door frame.


	4. Chapter 4

So this chapter was of course long over due. No fears, I'm not giving up on this story but I think its more than fair to explain my absence. There have been several passings in my family since the beginning of the year and naturally to help me heal I'm going to intertwine those into the story line. The chapter I'm working on right now is that particular chapter. So just hold on while I work on that one but luckily I have a few chapters already written that I can throw out at you. This one was originally part of my old version and as I was reading it I hadn't made the changes that I thought I had made. Then as I was reading it I realized that it would actually be a big help to keep my eventual storyline under wraps. Gotta keep you guys guessing ; )

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><p>The wind rushed by, pushing my brunette curls away from my face. Obscured by my sunglasses, I closed my eyes so that I could more acutely hear the wheels of my longboard gliding over the pavement and feel the minute vibrations rushing up my legs. Ellie's energy rushed from her harness, through the leash and into my hand. Opening my eyes I took a deep breath to revel in the scent of woods that flooded me. This is a far cry from the boardwalks I used to go longboarding down back in California but the peace I found while gliding over the country road was still the same.<p>

It had been a long week and I was more than grateful to have the weekend lying at my feet. After getting the horses out for their daily exercise, I decided to treat myself and Ellie for a cruise. While at work I would sometimes consider taking my longboard and a change of clothes so that I could go boarding during my lunch break. That was exactly what I was going to do until I realized the risk of being so caught up in cruising around that I would run out of time and not be able to eat lunch. Besides, I used that break to wander around the facility and get to know the soldiers better. It was far easier for them to speak with me during sessions if they saw me as relatable, not some stuck up desk jockey who didn't know her way around an assault rifle.

Whenever they would ask me how I was doing (which was nearly every encounter) I would respond with a 'good', 'okay', or 'fine'. What they didn't know was that while all those responses were semantically similar, they represented their own varying meanings. 'Good' was to be taken at face value but 'okay' was my way of saying that I was bothered or saddened about something. And if the poor soul were to cross me after receiving a 'fine' as a response they would most likely end up having their tonsils replaced by their testicles.

Being a psychologist I knew the full value of being able to express my concerns and the happenings of my life, however if the soldiers were to find out issues that I was dealing with it would detract from my helping them. How could I help them if they knew I was worried about how the rescued horse wasn't eating all of his food and drastically losing weight?

So lost in thought I didn't see what snatched my longboard's wheels to a jarring halt. The shock of flying through the air Superman-style made my heart stop beating. From the days long ago when I fell of the jungle-gym at recess, time seemed to slow down. Looking at the approaching concrete I just thought 'This is gonna fucking hurt'.

I must have hit my head because the next thing I know, Ellie's tongue was getting far too familiar with my ear. Somehow I ended up laying on my back and my whole body hurt. The last thing I wanted to do was to open my eyes but the thought of being hit by a car rose to the top of my "Not-to-Do" list. Groaning, I pried my eyes open but I was blinded by the sunlit silhouette standing above me.

"Hiiiiiiii-yyyyaaaa" I drawled out as the man's features came into view as he knelt down. The first thing I noticed was his blazingly white smile.

"You should be in a Crest commercial. Four out of five doctors would agree…" I giggled.  
>"Now <em>that <em> was supposed to stay inside my head…as was that…..IIIIIIII'm shutting up now" I could feel my face turning red from embarrassment and I truly hoped that Mystery Man would chalk it up to the sun…I hoped.

"Looks like you took a pretty nasty fall." The man graciously helped me to my feet, careful to avoid the road rashes I had on my arms. Ellie looked up at me with her head cocked to the side and her tail wagging slowly back and forth.

"You are a _horrible_ guard dog," I said as I pointed a finger accusingly at her. She simply licked it. My finger went limp as I sighed. The stranger laughed and I suddenly remembered that I never responded to the statement he had just said.

"I, uh, was longboarding and I, uh, I have…ugh, no idea" I said with a flick toward my longboard to where it had rolled backwards several feet down the road. As innocent as can be, a tiny rock laid just ahead of it. So that solved that mystery.

"Well I'm glad that your pretty face didn't catch your fall. Would have hated to see those freckles marred up." My gaze flashed over at him but my sight was mainly blocked by a strand of hair that had fallen across my right eye. Gingerly, he brushed the curl aside and for the first time I was able to clearly see his face. Right then I knew that I would be throwing myself under the wheels of the next car that drove by because if a human could look this good, I could not WAIT to see what God had in store for me up in Heaven.

"Hiiiiiiiiiya" Well that was a genius move to make at the male model who was holding me up…with his sculpted arms…to his rock hard chest. Grad school should have better prepared me for this. The corner of the runway model's lips (seriously, what else could he be?) seemed to be in a constant quirk but at my beautiful use of semantics his 1,000 watt smile returned.

"I think your head did catch you though. I would think all those curls would act like some kind of helmet."

"Hey!" I indigently cried, pushing myself off of him. I took several weaving steps backward. "Do not…insult the curls."

Mystery man held up his hands in the universal sign of peace. "Duly noted."

"Good," I said with a single firm nod which made the world spin as well as set off my own personal fireworks display. "I…am going to go back home and take a lovely little nap. Come on El-El…whoa." Before I fell (once again) I felt a single arm wrap around my waist and pull me up.

"Why don't I give you a ride and make sure you _don't_ take that lovely little nap you want. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion."

"Yeah well a nap won't hurt me….wait. Oh. Yeah." I frowned as the mystery man led me to

"Holy shit is that a…a…?" I stammered while attempting to snap my fingers (my lack of coordination wasn't allowing that to happen). I knew the car and it was on the tip of my tongue but the concussion wasn't making my memory the best.

"A McLaren?"

"_Yes_! Ohhhhhh, my head. Can someone turn off the sun please?" Tall, dark, and handsome laughed as he led my stumbling ass towards his car with Ellie following behind.

"Even if I could, I really don't think that would be a good idea"

"End of the world blah, blah, blah. _Fuck _that shit. Everyone can just…go to Hell" A tiny voice in the back of my head told me that I needed to get my act together because I tried to avoid cursing at all costs…I told that voice to go to Hell too.

"Well, I do hear it's rather nice in the winter." Realizing what I had said before his response I stopped. We were close enough to the car that I stumbled out of his grasp and leaned against the trunk. Taking a good look at the mystery man, I hid my face behind my hands. I had made a real ass out of myself and a concussion really wasn't any excuse for it. I spread my fingers wide enough to look at his questioning face then quickly shut them. To make matters worse, this guy was _gorgeous_. He must have been as tall as my cousin who was 6'4" and his smooth caramel skin looked as smooth as silk. With a firm, strong jaw and light eyes that practically radiated his soul, his looks were award-winning and so was my stupidity. Taking a deep breath I shakily pushed myself from the car and let my hands drop to my sides.

"I'm sorry, I made a complete fool of myself. I just," I twirled my fingers near my temple, "wasn't myself from the fall." I started walking back toward my farm and past the man but he softly grabbed me around the shoulders and rotated me right around him so that I was facing the car again.

"Please. Let me give you a lift. You shouldn't be walking." His tone was stern yet gentle, telling me that there wasn't going to be any arguing with him. I tried to pull myself away from his grip rather half-heartedly. "I have seen _far _worse when people make fools of themselves, myself including. You're really only a 3 on the scale." I frowned slightly and looked up at him, hoping that he wasn't just bullshitting me.

"Not even enough to make it on Youtube?" His head bobbed slightly side-to-side in contemplation. "Naw, that greeting definitely would have made it on Youtube…four out of five viewers would agree," he said with a wink and a lop-sided smile.

I gave him a light shove before leaning against the car as he opened the door (_Oh my God that's so cool, it has Lambo doors!_) and I plopped inside. Before I could react Ellie hopped up into my lap. My mouth dropped in concern when the man waved his hand in dismissal.

"I'm not leaving _either _of you behind." I hugged Ellie's thick body to me and gave a grateful smile. His wife/girlfriend was one lucky girl…there was no way that a guy like this was still on the market. I _really_ wanted to find out if he was on the market but that would be so insanely obvious and I had gone far and beyond my embarrassment quota for the day.

The ride was quick and smooth. Not much was said other than the standard greetings. I found out that his name was Chase Storm and he's lived in the area for a few years.

"Do you have a sister and brother named Susan and Johnny?" I laughed. Chase smiled and chuckled along with me, canting his head and looking at me playfully from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah but they don't know about me. Milkman's son and all, ya know?"

"Must feel pretty jipped not getting the bomb super powers though." Chase closed his eyes in mock disappointment. When he opened his eyes I was hit with how green they were. I was surprised I hadn't noticed that before.

"Well, I think I would be more of a Wolverine kind of guy. Or maybe that one that Ryan Reynolds played…without being a psychotic creep of course."

"Make a left here," I pointed out my driveway hidden amongst the trees. Chase deftly handled the McLaren and I'm pretty sure he had a little fun in taking the turn too sharp so that I had to make a mad dash to support myself and Ellie from being flung against the door.

"Jeez, girl with a concussion here," I grumbled as I winced. Ellie began licking my face and wagging her tail against the door so loudly that the interior was filled with the banging. Chase's face dropped and he reached out towards me before he caught himself.

"I'm so sorry. I was being an idiot and I forgot. Are you okay?" The look on his face would have been more appropriate if he had just found a shot baby, not taken a too sharp turn with a concussed individual.

"Yeah, relax. No harm done." I tried my best to smile but the spinning surroundings must have told him the truth behind my words.

As carefully as he could, the McLaren crawled up the gravel driveway to my house. Apparently Chase felt that any minute jarring would cause my head to literally explode. I asked him to drive me over to the stable, explaining that I needed to feed the horses. Without any questioning, we pulled in front of the barn's massive double doors. Ellie did a combination of falling and jumping out of the car when I finally managed to open the door up (so cool!) and by that time Chase had come around to help me out of the car.

"Let me help you," he stated softly, leaving no room for argument. The moment that he rolled the door open, Ellie slipped inside and there was a chorus of neighs. I slipped in after her to flip on the light. My two horses had their heads curled over their stall doors, Golightly exuberantly nodding his enormous head up and down. Even though he was in the middle, I walked to his stall first. As soon as I was close enough, he stopped throwing his head and strained his massive chest against the door. The thought of him breaking it down fleetingly passed through my mind. Resting my forehead against his forelock, I turned my head slightly to look through my curls at Chase. He was still standing by door as if unsure what to do.

"I've never seen a horse before," he explained rather sheepishly. I smiled and motioned him over to me and Golightly. While stroking the grey horse's chin, I gently took Chase's hand placed it against the dappled check. The gelding breathed heavily into my hand, his whiskers tickling my palm. Even though the only part of Chase I was touching was his hand, it was if I could _feel_ his energy radiating off of him as he stood just behind me. Golightly pulled away from my touch to turn his undivided attention to Chase, as if evaluating this new male on his property while I stepped off to the side. The thought process must not have taken long because before I could stop it, Golightly was resting his head against Chase's chest. I curled my fingers in the long black mane as the horse gave a contented sigh.

Chase's face was filled with shock, admiration, and awe. As he looked over at me, something inside of me told me that this was the beginning of something very, _very_ good.

* * *

><p>I'm not really sure what tipped them off to it. I knew that I was easy to read but this was absolutely <em>ridiculous<em>. All it took was me stepping into the reception area where Killgore and DuPont were going over the appointments for the week. They took one look at me, then at each other.

"Who is he?" Killgore all but pulled out his gun to go in search for the mystery man.

"Wh-what do you mean?" I asked in general shock. _How did they know?!_

"Come on now, ma'am, the vieux here and me ain' some couyons." Killgore looked down at the seated lieutenant with a slight grimace of confusion. Normally he would ask for a translation but he had bigger fish to fry.

"You've worked under me for how long, Kylee? I think I know the signs of when you've met a…gentleman friend."

"That is none-"

"Go play! No need to be hont."

"Why would I play? And I'm not…hont…or whatever you said I am," I groused. Seriously, there was no way I was going to tell these two about Chase and have them start joking about using him as target practice if things don't work out…and then actually go through with it. Bryan might not be the type to do that sort of thing but I knew that Killgore would find some way to drag him along whether he wanted to or not.

"Ah meant I don't believe ya and ya don' need ta be embarrassed. Don't go makin' a bahbin."

"Will you please speak English?" Killgore fumed in absolute frustration. Apparently it didn't take as long as I had thought for him to have issues with the language barrier.

"Ah am, sir! I ain't usin' mah French?" Bryan, for his part, looked sorely confused.

"Don't worry about him, DuPont. He's just mad because he's old and hard of hearing."

"Mah eye! The Colonel has fine hearin' if ya ask me."

"No need to suck up, son." Killgore rubbed his head for a moment. I knew I would be hearing comments for the rest of the day about how us young people were just too much for him. "You," he said with a finger pointing dangerously at me. "Who is he?"

"I have no idea who you're talking about Killgore," I replied as nonchalantly as possible as I passed the two soldiers to get into my office just next to Bryan's desk. Leaving the door open, I could hear Bryan asking the colonel about the nickname. I smiled to myself and tried to stop myself from laughing while wondering how quick it was going to spread.

As I was placing my backpack on my desk, my phone vibrated from a text message from none other than Chase asking if we were still on for that night. When he was making sure I was okay from my fall, we were talking about the latest movie releases and agreed that a new action-adventure looked pretty good. As soon as he realized I wanted to see it too, he asked me if we could go together. I'm still not sure if it's a date and I probably won't until it comes time to pay for the tickets and food.

The rest of the day was pretty normal considering where I now worked. The sessions I had with the soldiers were pretty much triage. There were a handful that I was worried about including the ones who had originally approached me when I gave my seminar three weeks before. Considering that the majority of soldiers did not seek help for their problems, I knew that there were plenty more I needed to weed out. It was the paperwork that kicked me in the ass to the point that I had to evict Wheelie and Brains due to confidentiality and to get rid of any distractions. It wasn't until I looked at my computer's clock and realized that the sun was about to go down that I realized how far I had been pushing myself. Giving myself a much needed break, I flipped the folders closed and locked them back into the file cabinet next to the desk.

For the most part, everything was rather quiet and it seemed like everyone was done for the day. The night shift was coming in while I stepped out of one of the hangars and onto the tarmac. There were just enough cloud coverage to give a decent preview of the sunset to come. I found a decent view to watch the show when the large door I was standing next to opened up. Two vehicles rolled out and, without even stopping, transformed into Ratchet and Ironhide. Not wanting to be caught staring, I turned my attention back to the skyline although I was able to see both Autobots from the corner of my eye. They seemed to notice me as well since they decided to stand beside me to watch the sun disappear.

"Hello Doctor Goldberg," Ratchet greeted.

Ironhide nodded his head, "Captain."

"Coming out for the view?" I asked, settling my back against the concrete walls.

"Yes, there is a calming nature about watching your sun set," Ratchet explained. There was something that I liked about him even though I couldn't explain what exactly it was. Beneath his professional demeanor there was something else that was much closer to his real personality than when there was death and destruction always looming on the horizon. Ironhide, on the other hand, you got what you saw. No more, no less.

"I know what you mean. Sometimes though, it makes me miss home even more. You haven't seen a sunset until you've seen a SoCal sunset," I told them, looking up with a smile. From the other side of Ratchet I heard a chuckle.

"You are lucky your species has such a beautiful planet. Sometimes there are one or two things on a planet that are notable, but here? The wonders are endless."

The sky was slowly turning into a haze of oranges and reds as the blazing fireball began sinking out of view.

"When you have a chance you should travel the country, see what just this continent has to offer."

"And where would you suggest, Doctor?" Ratchet looked down at me with sincere curiosity and I deeply hoped that he would have the opportunity to take action on my suggestion.

"Well, there are a lot of different places for different people. But…nothing beats Yosemite. The waterfalls, the views…" I raised my hands up from my sides, trying to grasp the perfect word to describe the grandeur of Yosemite. "It's like no other place on Earth…or I imagine anywhere else." Ratchet had a faraway look to him before he responded.

"Yes, the pictures on the Internet are quite-"

"No!" I cried with more conviction then I had meant to let on. Both looked down with slight concern written on their faces. "I mean, don't look it up on-line. The first time you see the valley should be in person. If you look anything up, look up Ansel Adams."

There was a long awkward moment of silence in which I berated myself. My first casual interaction with these guys and I make myself look like a hysteric woman who would be prescribed laudanum in the Freudian days.

"I mean," I tried to reconcile. "Don't let pictures other people took ruin it for you. The first time you see a place like Yosemite should be for yourself."

"We understand. Before the war, our planet had exceptional architecture. All we have is documentation before it was ruined but the images we have shown you humans are nothing compared to seeing it the way we did for ourselves." Ratchet was somber when he was telling me this and it was then that I could see how homesick he was. They really were refugees but instead of fighting to get back home or to make lives for themselves here, they were fighting to protect a species not their own. I wondered if humanity could ever do what they were doing if faced with those circumstances. Shaking myself from my thoughts I turned to face the two Autobots.

"Thank you for your time. I really need to be going home though. I have several animals who are wondering impatiently where their dinner is." Both Ratchet and Ironhide, who had seemed more keen on listening more than anything else, looked as if they wanted to say something about my comment but I hastened away before they could say anything. There was a lot to think about on my drive home.


End file.
